Tears Don't Fall
by KouenTaisa
Summary: A ghost of a smile still lingered upon the unmoving lips, causing his heart to twist painfully in his barely moving chest. He had died, having the last laugh... how truly ironic. Post DH. George!Angst. That is all you need to know.


Author: My George angst. Because I swim in a sea of angst 24/7. So, here is this. The reaction of the readers will decide if it is chaptered.  
**  
Tears Don't Fall**

George stood at the head of his twin's death bed, holding his head in between his trembling hands. His fingers twitched, brushing against the cold, lifeless skin. A ghost of a smile still lingered upon the unmoving lips, causing his heart to twist painfully in his barely moving chest. He had died, having the last laugh... how truly ironic. He could hear the heavy sobs of his mother to his side. Percy was crying out in frustration, a battle of hate and love and guilt and pain waging inside his chest, powered by the rapid beating of his heart. Bill was holding Fluer, using his wife as his anchor to his world. Charlie's hand was covering his face, silent tears slipping down his warm cheeks. His father was holding his mother, unable to cry... for he had to be strong, even as a single tear slipped down his cheek and landed in Molly's hair.

It was the first time that he had ever truly been without Fred. Fred was just like his heart, a constant presence that he would, and could, never get rid off. Staring at the pale face, knowing that he would never see those beautiful eyes again, he felt his heart die as well. He was consumed in his grief, so much so, that it hurt to breath or think or even _live._

"Don't leave me..." the words sounded like a strangled gasp, startling the other Weasleys. Charlie looked over at his younger brother, looking so old to be so young. George clutched the pristine white sheets that lie under his dead twin. His knuckles turned pale at his tight grip, his messy red hair falling into his eyes as his shoulders started to shake.

"George-"

"He can't be dead... he can't... because if he died... then I would die too..." his voice was soft, but Charlie and the others heard them regardless. Bill, after giving Fluer an all together tortured look, moved away from her and came to stand at the side of George. He was trembling, his face hidden by his unruly hair, but there was no tears. Silently, he wondered if there would ever be. The man hesitated, his scarred face twisted in a look of complete sorrow as he finally reached out, brushing his fingers against the back and shoulder of his sibling. George offered no indication that he felt the touch. He only released a shuddering breath, seeming so much smaller than he knew him to be.

_"Hey mate, cheer up, wouldja?"_

George trembled, unable to release his death grip on the sheets as he stood there, his eyes closed... trying so hard to comprehend anything and everything.

"Fred..."

_"Hey, cheer up, George. Remember when we were kids and we hid all of Percy's school work? Doya remember how made he got? Or when ickle Ronny-kins pitched a fit when we accidentally destroyed his room?"_

His shoulders shook, but not in sorrow. George opened his eyes, staring down at the dead body of his brother, a small smile twisting his sorrowful features. Fred, despite the pale and cold feel of his body, was not dead. Fred lived on in spirit, inhabiting everyone that he had come into contact with. His memories would always make them smile and laugh, sometimes cry because it would be painful at first, but it would get better. Because he would live on as Fred Weasley, his twin and best friend. Not even death could take that away.

-----

"Papa!" the small red-haired boy ran up to his father, freckled cheeks stretched as he grinned widely. His father opened his arms, scooping up the eleven year old boy. He laughed, the sound merry and jubilant. George smiled at his son, standing on platform nine and three quarters, getting ready to board the Hogwarts Express. Today his oldest child and only son would be heading off to begin his first year.

"Now Fred, what did I tell you about Hogwarts?"

The boy fiddled with the front of his father's shirt, reciting the age old lesson by heart and without much thought. "Don't cause too much trouble. Make friends with Peeves. Try my best and write once a week."

George nodded, setting his son back onto his feet. He could just make out Harry in the distant, dropping off Albus and James. Standing close by was his younger brother, Ron, sending off Rose for her first year. His nephew, Hugo, stood by his mother's feet, talking animatedly to Lily, the youngest Potter child. A soft smile crossed over his face as Fred ran towards them, wanting to see his Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione before he left for school. Standing there, he had the strongest urge to cry, remembering his deceased brother and the heart-warming smiles that he used to give.

Fred had those as well. At eleven, he was already mischievious, causing an unending stream of trouble that caused those around him to laugh. He was quick to make friends, and George was sure he would end up being a Gryffindor.

_"Just like me, ey mate?"_

George nodded to the disembodied voice. His solace these past nineteen years. The memory of his brother had carried him, forcing him to continue, becoming a mantra in his head. _Never give up and never surrender. Always smile and live life to the fullest, but don't forget... crying is apart of life. Even if the tears don't fall in front of others, let them rain down in your solitude... for a weight unlike no other will be lifted... and you can smile..._


End file.
